I sold my truck this evening. I'm crying a little. Yes, it was purple and was painted with a paint brush. Yes, it had spray painted flames with hand drawn daisies. It had not one but two, "Honk if you are a
Farmgirl!" bumper stickers on the rear tail gate that only opened if you knew the "trick to it". But this truck was a family heirloom practically.
I remember when my son was three or four, riding his two-wheeler with the training wheels on it, bashing his head on the tailgate. But it was
OK, because he was wearing the big
Styrofoam retard bike helmet that Sonja always laughed at but bought one for her own son years later.
I remember my son six years old or so, helping Grandma shovel compost out of the back of it. And a few years later watching him drive it through the orchard in the only gear he knew--first.
And I now think back on the last few months or so, teaching my son, now going on sixteen, how to drive all five speeds in it. I laugh when I think of the stories he can tell when he's older about how he learned how to drive a stick in his mom's Viking purple, 91 Nissan P/U with the white daisy flames.
But I sold it to have the cash for a down payment on his first car. We decided the truck, as wonderful as she was, just wasn't safe enough for him. I want him to drive something with lots of airbags, automatic seat belts, and possibly a condom dispenser just in case.
Well, I'll miss her. I'm glad I remembered to warn the guy that bought it, to not freak out too much if he gets stopped by someone wanting to know why he's driving Kimberly's truck. I've been driving it like that a long while in a not so big town.
By the way, just for the record; I think I might of made some kind of
Craigslist record. I posted the ad, and
received a call about five minutes later, they showed up ten minutes after that, and I closed the deal within a half hour. It took me longer to clean it out. Wow. Sniffle, sniffle.
Oh, and I have no car. Sigh
